Poison and Wine
by robinsparkles14
Summary: Dr. Gold is not having the easiest time. His life is in pieces, and it's pure dumb luck that he happens across Belle French, the only person who seems to hate her life as much as he does. Rumbelle AU with stripper!Belle and doctor!Gold
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Poison and Wine

**Author**: robinsparkles14

**Rating**: It will be NC-17 in future chapters

**Fandom**: Once Upon A Time

**Pairing**/**Characters**: Rumbelle, with some other characters that managed to weasel their way in

**Summary**: Dr. Gold is not having the easiest time. His life is in pieces, and it's pure dumb luck that he happens across Belle French, the only person who seems to hate her life as much as he does. Rumbelle AU with stripper!Belle and doctor!Gold

**Disclaimer**: It would be so awesome if I owned OUAT and ABC and Disney didn't. Also, all song lyrics belong to The Civil Wars. This fic was pure imagination and resemblance to another is unintentional.

**A**/**N**: Sorry this is a day late! I promise it was done yesterday but then life happened. This idea has been in my head since July and I was going to save it for the premiere but I couldn't help myself. Hope you all enjoy!

_**"You only know what I want you to."**_

To say that Dr. Gold doesn't want to be here would be a massive understatement.

Maybe it's the blaring loud music, the irritating girls who are continuously trying to take his money, or his colleague Dr. Whale, who is completely content with all of this. All of those things are probably contributing in some way to Gold's horrendous mood, but in all honesty, the biggest thing is probably just the shitty state of his life.

At this point, all he wants is to leave this godforsaken place and go back to his son, but he knows that doing so isn't possible. And knowing it's not possible definitely doesn't help to lift his spirits.

"Would you like a dance?" A scantily clad girl says over his shoulder. And really, that's all he notices: that she's scantily clad. Because beyond that she's just a woman. Some random girl who will probably fuck up his life in some way. Just like Lilac.

"No," he says coldly, not even glancing back at her.

Dr. Whale nods and points at Gold as the girl saunters off. "Good call," he notes, "you know they're no good when they pull up their fishnets like that."

Gold resists the urges to both roll his eyes and punch Whale in the face. "Of course," he mutters, "Look, I have business elsewhere. I ought to just go."

The words appear to kick Dr. Whale into a new state of mind. "No! You can't go yet!" He says, hardly sounding like himself. Apparently the companionship of a rude, recently divorced and abandoned doctor meant more to him than Gold had assumed.

"Why not?" Gold asks, sounding irritated.

Whale completely dismisses the question. "Just wait until Bella comes out. She's amazing, honestly."

"I could care less how amazing she looks, Dr. Whale. I don't need to see any more of this."

He half expects Whale to start whining like an eleven year old girl who's had her barbies taken, but instead he gets this 'oh man you have no idea, do you?' expression on his face and says, "trust me. Bella is more than just a girl who looks amazing. One look at you'll fucking fall in love with her, I swear."

Gold sneers and looks away. "Well I'm not looking for _love_."

_**"I know everything you don't want me to."**_

"Yes...yes, Greg I understand, I-"

Belle sighs and does her best to ignore the continuous rambling coming through the phone. He's upset that she's working. Even though they'd had this damned conversation last night, Greg is still complaining about it, saying he wanted to 'spend time' with her tonight. Like she doesn't know exactly what that means.

"If you'd shut up for one second you'd realize I-" She starts to say, but as usual, he interrupts her.

"No! You shut up! I do everything for you...for us! Do you know how much my schedule's been fucked up because of you? We're supposed to be together, Belle! But I have to everything, right? It's all about Belle."

She understands where he's coming from, really, she does. But that doesn't negate the fact that he's annoying her beyond belief. "I know, I know," she says calmly, "And I'm sorry but we'll have time. Just not tonight.

He sighs hugely into the phone. "You know what? I get it. I get that you're a stripper and that it's cool to have dozens of other boyfriends, but at least have the decency to say it to my face."

She's completely taken aback by his words. "Is that what you think?" She says, and her pissed-offness is clear as day.

"Belle, I know you-"

"You told me that you wouldn't judge me. You told me that the job I was forced to get didn't matter to you, Greg!" Belle fumes. And to think she'd actually believed him when he told her that.

"You think I don't know what you do at that job? And I put up with it for you. Because I care about you."

"I can't believe you'd say something like that to me." She whispers.

"You don't leave me with many other options." He informs her.

Her eyes narrow and she shakes her head in the mirror even though he can't see her. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it would be better if I had dozens of other boyfriends. It'd be better than this, at least."

As soon as the words leave her mouth she wishes that she could take them back. She knows that Greg only wants to be there for her and that he doesn't mean to be so irritating, but at this point she's so angry at him for accusing her of something so horrible that she wasn't thinking.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?" Greg demands.

Belle sighs and calms herself. "Nothing, honestly. Sorry, I'm just angry. I don't mean that."

"Sure you don't."

He says it so simply that she could swear that he actually believes she's just another whore who had to take up stripping for money. Greg is supposed to be different. She spends enough time listening to people saying she's a horrible person and that she's going to hell. Greg always said that he respected her and thought of her as a real person despite her occupation. Her father had pushed her to date Greg because he worked at the flower shop, and Belle had agreed because she thought he was better than any of the other men out there. She even trusted him with her secret and he didn't judge her for it.

At least at the time he didn't. Apparently now things have changed. "I...I'm sorry, Greg, I never should have said that. You mean more to me than that."

She hears him sigh into the phone and say, "Whatever, Belle. I'll just go out tonight. Don't wait up for me."

The words, 'I wouldn't dream of it' boil on her tongue, threatening to spill over, but she knows saying them will only upset him. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"I have things to do tomorrow." He says flatly. Of course he has things to do. Nowadays he always has better things to do than hang out with her. Except tonight, when he'd convinced himself they were going to have sex.

"Um, okay. Monday then."

"Sure. Monday night. I'll see you then," he still has a coldness to his voice which she thinks is silly. Is one night really going to kill him?

"See you then. Bye."

"Bye," he says, not losing an ounce of irritation.

Belle snaps her cellphone shut and runs her hands through her hair. Being with Greg always proves to be tough, but she always tells herself it's worth it. She does care about him to an extent, and he's nice to her and protective of her (if a little overly so.). He does his best to be gentle with her and she likes the feeling of being close to someone like that even though she hardly enjoys the actual sex. But all that is just life. Disappointment happens. Sometimes you get stuck with a controlling boyfriend and a job stripping. It could be worse, and honestly Belle doesn't have it all that bad.

"Hurry up," a sweet voice singsongs behind her. Belle turns to see Ruby smiling down at her.

"Oh. Hey, Ruby. Sorry, I'm nearly ready, give a minute."

Ruby slides into the chair next to Belle and laughs. "I don't care. But Regina might. You're the whole reason people come here."

Belle rolls her eyes and blushes. "No I'm not. If anyone is it's you, Ruby."

"Stop being so modest, we all know about Dr. Whale's little crush on you," Ruby wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

"I have a boyfriend, Ruby," Belle mutters.

"Yeah, I know," Ruby agrees, and then whispers, "But even Dr. Whale might be better than him."

Belle pretends not to hear her and continues mascara-ing her eyes.

"How is Greg, anyway?" Ruby asks "I ask only because you look pissed off."

Belle bites her lower lip. "He's mad that I have to work tonight. I told him blame it on Regina but he's convinced I'm cheating on him. It's silly because _he's _the one who always claims to be 'busy'" she puts air quotes around the word busy, dropping the tube of mascara in the floor and cursing quietly before picking it up.

Ruby nods slowly and sighs. "Well, he's just a little over-protective. If you were taken captive he'd probably march down to the kidnappers house and get himself eaten. That's not exactly a bad thing."

Belle shakes her head. "Kidnappers don't eat people, Ruby."

"Some do. But that's not the point. Just be glad that Greg cares about you, even if he is a whiny bastard. Now go. Get out there."

Belle rolls her eyes and makes her way toward the beaded entryway to the stage where Regina is standing with Emma Swan. Belle tries to contain her distaste. The two of them are laughing and flirting and being so...happy. Everyone around here knows about Emma and Regina's love affair, but hardly anyone approves, including Emma's mother, for various reasons. The whole thing is just a full-blown soap opera.

Belle tries to get between them, whispering "excuse me" over and over and being ignored. _Come on_ she thinks to herself, _Stop being such a coward. Do the brave thing._

"Please move, Regina. I'm supposed to be out there now."

The older woman turns her sweet gaze away from Emma and glares daggers at Belle. "I'm sorry," she says, in a voice that sends ice through the room, "I may be mistaken, but did you just _interrupt me?"_

Belle takes a step back thrown off completely by Regina's hostility towards her. "I-I'm sorry," she stammers, "I didn't mean-"

"Oh, really?" Regina snaps, stepping back toward her, "Then tell me, _miss French, _what did you mean?"

"Regina..." Emma says uneasily.

Belle blinks and says, "I really didn't mean to upset you, Regina, I just-"

Regina slits her eyes and her jaw sets for a moment before she snaps, "You know what? I've grown really fucking tired of your excuses, Miss French. Get out of here."

Belle looks down at her fishnets and barely-there corset. "I-I can't! Please, I need-"

"That was NOT a request!"

_**"Your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine" **_

"I can't believe she's not out yet! i swear, every night Bella comes out at this exact time!"

Gold resists the urge to roll his eyes at Dr. Whale and instead just stares blankly ahead of him. "I'm going home, Whale. This was a miserable idea."

Whale makes a flitting motion with his hand and cocks his head to the side. "Yeah, yeah. Just go home and mope over that bitch who stole your kid. Doesn't sound at all unhealthy."

Gold balls his hands into fists to keep from slapping Dr. Whale across the face. Not for insulting Lilac. (Lord knew Dr. Gold has called her much worse than 'bitch') He wanted to slap him for calling him on his shit. Because, unfortunately, Whale was right. If he goes home now Gold will spend all his time moping around over Bae. And he wishes he could deny it.

"I'm leaving now, Dr. Whale," Gold says in a voice like ice.

Whale rolls his eyes and Gold rushes out of the place in a hurry.

For the love of all that is holy, why on earth does he deserve this? He has never considered himself a good person, but this seemed a cruel and unusual punishment. Bae was his everything, and the fact that Lilac was taking him away just for the sake of hurting Gold is beyond ridiculous. Lilac does not care about their son. She never cared about Gold. The only thing she ever cared about was herself and her ridiculous, hurtful motives. She isn't even worth his thoughts and he hates himself for giving them to her.

Smack! Gold gasps and nearly falls over from the force that had whacked him in the forehead.

"What in the bloody hell is-"

The words "wrong with you" fade away from his lips when he glances up and sees a small girl clutching her own forehead. He can't really make out her features in the dim light of the alleyway, but the fact that she's also hurt herself stops him from insulting her too severely.

"I-I'm sorry," she says, and he immediately picks up on her clear, Australian accent.

"You..." Why is he finding himself at a loss for words? "You damn well should be sorry!" He feels like hitting himself in the forehead again for sounding so idiotic.

"Yeah, I-I wasn't looking," she stammers, looking up, and he sees the black mascara lines running down her pretty face even in the dim light.

It wasn't because of him, was it? His words couldn't be making her cry. "It's, uhm," he clears his throat awkwardly, "It's no matter."

She shakes her head. "No, it was my fault, I just have a lot on my mind I was...distracted."

He finds himself nodding along with her words and forces himself to stop. "Are you...are you alright?"

She waves her hands in the air and stumbles over her own feet in the process. "No, no...yes, I'm fine, just...trying to get myself home."

He nods again. "You have a place to go?" Why was he asking her that? What did it matter? He doesn't even know her.

"Yeah," she says, "I mean, not really, but I'll find one, probably."

He sighs and musters up all the confidence he can. This is stupid. He is going to regret this completely. He knows it.

"Come with me. I'll give you a place to stay, miss..."

"Belle."


	2. Chapter 2

_**"You think your dreams are the same as mine."**_

He ushers her around the building to where his car is parked on the side of the road. She looks down as they walk together, not wanting to meet his eyes. He scares her, though she wouldn't like to admit it. He seemed so cold when he first ran into her, and now he is inviting her back to his place so that she will have a bed tonight. No one had ever done anything like that for her, especially not someone who seemed like he would never want to do anything for anyone.

The thought of him possibly being a murderer or a rapist, or maybe just someone who thought she could be taken advantage of does occur to her, but she laughs at the idea when her eyes land on his for the moment she would allow. He isn't going to hurt her. He might act as if he isn't afraid to, but she knows that he won't.

He opens the passenger door for her and she slides into the seat. He then closes it for her and walks around the other side. A gentleman. To her, at least.

"Thank you," she says softly, "You didn't have to do this."

His eyes do not so much as flicker towards her. "Well, I do have a soul. Wasn't about to let an innocent young woman spend the night on a park bench."

She scoffs. "I would not have been on a park bench!" She says.

He shakes his head in what looks like amusement and murmurs, "Of course not. I apologize, Miss Belle." He sounds almost sarcastic, but she really cannot tell if he is messing with her or not.

"You know that I'm not a...a courtesan or anything, right?" She tells him, sort of trying to mess with him like she feels he is messing with her. But it becomes clear that she has failed when he says,

"You don't strike me as the type. I know, trust me, they dress much differently than you with that big heavy coat on."

She snorts and giggles. "W-" she wants to say something, but she is at a complete loss for words.

"Don't worry dearie," he tells her, "I have no intention of taking advantage of you."

"Then why are you doing this?"

It is a strange thing to ask, and she almost wishes she had kept it to herself, but as usual, her curiosity had gotten the best of her. It is not that she is ungrateful for what he is doing for her, she just does not understand his motive if it is not to have her. After all, he must know that she works at the show club, seeing her walk back behind it with her medium length jacket hiding her clothing but definitely not her enormous red stripper heels. Even in the dark, seeing a woman in the alleyway would always make one assume she was either homeless, a prostitute, or in this particular alley, a stripper.

"You..." He says, thinking about his answer for a long moment, "You looked like you could use some help. No one deserves to be alone out here.

She nods. "Well, thank you."

"You said that already," he notes, staring out the windshield blankly.

She tries to force the blush away from her cheeks and fails. Thank God he is not looking at her. But something about his voice...his accent that she couldn't really place, having no knowledge of accents other than her own, the American accent, and a British one...was incredibly, well, sexy to her. He speaks softly and calmly, and his "r"s roll off his tongue beautifully. It is a little intoxicating if she is being quite honest with herself. More so than Greg's deep, manly voice has ever been in this lifetime.

Did she really just compare this man to Greg? How completely inappropriate! Greg is her boyfriend and she has just met this man. Although she can't help but think of how much of a shithead Greg has been for the past few weeks. How she really didn't even enjoy being with him anymore and how she would love an excuse to-no. Belle knows that she is not that kind of person. She would stay faithful to Greg as long as it is in her power to do so.

She sighs heavily and looks out the window of the car. Raindrops have just begun to splatter across them, something that is unsurprising for the incredibly dreary town of Storybrooke, but it only darkens the mood.

"So." She says breathily, "What do you do, Mr..." She trails off, waiting for him to finish her sentence.

"Doctor," he corrects, "Dr. Gold."

A doctor. That sort of explains why he is so good as to take in a troubled stripper for the night. It is in his nature to help people.

"Do you work for the hospital here in Storybrooke?" She asks.

"Yes."

The conversation is dull and quickly running dry, perhaps because as far as Belle can tell, he is about as willing to share his back-story as she is hers, which is not all at all.

"Your wife isn't going to try and kill you for bringing me back to your house, is she?" Belle asks, partly as a joke, though she is more curious about his personal life than she would like to admit.

He laughs, but it is a dark laugh, like he does not really find her funny. "No," he says, "I'm not married anymore."

"Anymore?"

He stares out the windshield blankly and turns into one of the rich neighborhoods in town, making it quite clear that he has no intention of elaborating on the subject. Belle understands that. Had he been the one asking the questions, she would have answered in a similar fashion. Though she cannot imagine the state of his life to be any worse than that of hers.

He pulls into the driveway of a big, salmon-colored house, which she can't help but smile at. She bites down on her lower lip to hide her smirk and keep from laughing. From the look he is giving her, it is obvious that he is bitter about the paint and after he has been nice enough to help her, pissing him off is probably not in her best interest.

She pushes the car door open and watches him walk up the front steps, leaning on his cane (something she finds herself getting turned on a little bit by, but immediately pushes the thought to a dark corner of her mind.) and ignoring her entirely. This confused her since he at first had been so gentlemanly. Now it is as if he feels the need to distance himself from her. Like he is afraid of getting too close.

_**"And I don't love you, but I always will."**_

She is strange to him. Despite the fact that he had decided in an odd moment of kindness to take her in, Gold would never have expected her to try so hard to get him talking no matter how clear he made it that he did not wish to discuss anything.

She had asked so many questions, been so eager to escape any awkwardness that lingered between them. She had acted as if she wanted to know him, and it makes him assume her a strange girl, this Belle.

When she had said her name in the alleyway his mind had immediately jumped to the girl Dr. Whale had been refusing to shut up about, but he even with his subdued listening, he did remember that the girl Whale spoke of was named Bella, not Belle. And even though Dr. Whale is not particularly sensitive with names, not even remembering Lilac's and mostly referring to her as that "that bitch you were once married to," Belle did not exactly fit the stripper criteria. Although she is undeniably lovely, her beauty is subtle, and she is flaunting nothing but perhaps her cream colored legs, wearing a medium length black pea-coat with heels that he deemed fairly modest. And flawed as his judgment may have been after spending hours in the show-club, he convinced himself that she was far beyond any of the girls he had seen that night, which had been his justification of letting her into his house for the night.

He had seen her expression when he pulled into the driveway, much as she tried to hide it. The goddamned pink paint had (obviously) not been his idea. After the wedding, Lilac had insisted they get a big house since he had the money, being a doctor. He had attempted to convince her that they did not need it since he hoped it would just be them and Bae, but she had been enraged by the idea, ranting about how he did not truly care about her because if he did he would give her what she needed. So in a fit of grovelling he had given her full liberty with the house decor. He had not truly regretted it until the divorce when he had been willing to give her the house, but she had told him that he must be fucking insane if he thought she could stand to be reminded of his stupidity every day for the rest of her life.

After that ridiculousness, he could bear with this Belle girl laughing at the color for the one night he is allowing her to stay there.

She's _staying _there. The thought reminds him that he is making a mistake. Even though he had told her that he had no intentions of taking advantage of her, he can see her obvious vulnerability, and knows that her thoughts could not possibly be a as innocent. Obviously she is troubled. He had seen the black makeup lines that ran down her cheeks, felt the ora of obvious pain fill the alleyway and then his car. It is a feeling he has felt before, and it had ended with a child and a quick marriage of people who had clearly not known each other well enough.

But he convinces himself he is not a man who would make the same mistake twice. This girl is too young and naive to understand real consequences, but he has experienced it and knows not to let history repeat itself.

That was the logic in placing as much distance between them as the car would allow, and refusing to extend his kindness any more than he already has, ignoring her as he walks up the steps to the house.

He wishes that he could resist the urge to glance back and see her reaction, but emotional strength has never been his strong point, and he allows his eyes to flicker toward her for just a moment and see the distraught expression on her pretty face.

He opens the door wide, so that it will stay open for her without him having to hold it. He hears her heels click against the floorboards and stares down the wall to keep from looking at her again.

The impulse is ridiculous, but he cannot help but feel the need to look at her constantly, and even though his unbreakable exterior is sure to fool her, it is still a bit irritating to find himself having his eyes drawn to her every time she moves.

"Do you mind the couch?" He asks, walking over to the tea kettle. It is more of a command than a request. Although he has guestrooms to spare, he does not intend to give her one. He is distancing himself from her, and this is part of it, rude as it may be.

"Yeah, it's fine, I guess," she says, and he can feel her eyes on him while he puts the kettle on and fetches a china teacup from the cabinet. After placing it on the counter-top, he looks down for a second and then up again, allowing his eyes to meet hers.

"Would you like some tea?" He asks her, looking at her attractive form on the couch, her legs crossed primly, without emotion.

She nods. "Sure, if it isn't much trouble."

He reopens the cabinet and takes down an identical teacup. He then turns and watches her toy with the end of her jacket, and when she lifts it just a bit too far, he notices a bit of black lace poking out from underneath, but the image is short-lived since the moment she notices him watching her, she yanks down her jacket and clears her throat.

"Your, um, your house is nice," she volunteers as a conversation-starter.

"Hm," he says, "Yes, I suppose. Though I do notice the occasional mockery when it comes to the paint."

Her mouth falls open and she immediately starts apologizing. "No! I mean, I-I didn't mean-"

He waves her off. "It's no matter, dearie. There is a certain measure of hilarity when it comes to it."

She bites her lip and nods, then stops nodding and says, "Well, I mean, not really. It just...doesn't suit you, that's all. But I don't dislike the color."

"I see."

The kettle whistles and he places a bag in each of the two teacups before covering them with the blazing water.

"Could you add some sugar to mine?" She asks, leaning forward on the couch cushion, "I just...don't like it unsweetened."

He nods and opens a china container, dipping a small teaspoon into it and coming up with a bit of sugar. He stirs it into her cup carefully, then places the spoon on the counter-top and carries the cup over to her. She takes it from him and their fingers clash together.

"Ah!" He gasps and the teacup falls through the space between their fingers, tumbling onto the hardwood. She reaches down, her fingers brushing against his, and picks up the fallen dishware.

It still has a bit of tea in it, though for the most part it has splattered across the floor. "I'm so sorry," she mutters, examining the damage, "I'm afraid it-it's chipped."

Her words captivate him, and he fails to realize that his eyes are locked with hers for what feels like an eternity. And standing over her while she looks at him with such worry in her eyes, he feels something. It is not a feeling he can place, having never felt anything like it before, but having it there is extraordinary.

She is strange. Strange and unafraid. Nothing like him. He had always been afraid. He had married Lilac out of fear and cowardice, terrified of taking control of his own destiny. But this girl...Belle...she is different. More so than he had originally thought. And although she is staring up at him as though she thinks he may burn her, she seems ready and willing to take that punishment. She can run, but she chooses not to, and he knows that her reasons for this are beyond having nowhere to go.

"Well, it's just a cup." He says softly.

She blinks at him. Once. Twice. And the unadulterated innocence fades from her features and she begins to look like herself again rather than...rather than the way she had looked when their eyes were locked together.

"Right," she says, and it comes out breathy, almost nervous, as if she is returning to herself.

She then nods at the chipped teacup and the puddle on the floor and says, "I'll just-clean this up."

Her sentence is said broken, much like most of what she says, yet he finds that it appeals to him. He enjoys her stuttering and inability to speak fluidly. It is amusing to him, and he finds himself wondering if perhaps he is the reason she cannot speak proper English, which of course is a ridiculous thought. She has no reason to be nervous around him other than fear, and that clearly is not the case. The poor thing probably just has a stuttering problem. She is just lucky that on her it sounds attractive as opposed to sounding stupid.

"Alright," he agrees, "If you wouldn't mind it. I'll just, ah, go." He ought to give her some privacy anyway, she had clearly not had an easy night, and having him looming over her probably did not help anything.

She looks up and nods and he turns slowly and limps to the back of the house where the bedroom he once shared with Lilac was. The room almost seemed haunted now, which is why some nights he chooses different rooms or even the couch over it. But he thinks that sleeping next to the girl in the living room might scare her just a bit, and retiring to another room seems silly tonight. This room should not be haunted with memories of Lilac when a lovely girl slept a hallway away from him.

The idea is disgusting, using this girl as an excuse not to think of his family when clearly she is young, innocent, and does not deserve that. And his intentions in taking her in were purely that of kindness. Still, he can't help but enjoy the idea of a woman in his house who is not (as far as he can tell) a conniving bitch out to ruin him, even if he is just playing innkeeper with her.

He sighs and falls onto the expensive sheets covering the bed, the ones Lilac had picked out. The sheets still smell like her perfume, odd as it may sound. It was a scent he used to cherish, knowing that a woman as beautiful as she belonged to him, but now it sends nausea through him along with a million awful memories.

He falls asleep to Lilac's hateful words echoing in his own head.

_**"I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back."**_

Belle does her best to tend to the mess she has made on his floor rather than watch him exit the room, probably thinking he is doing her a favor. But leaving her alone to dwell on her problems is probably the worst thing that he could have done

He had been helping her to take her mind off things when he was around, and now she is alone with herself and a broken teacup, unsure and overwhelmed.

She walks into the kitchen quietly, in hopes that she will not be a disturbance to him, and takes a fluffy white kitchen towel from the place beside the stove. She thinks about looking for some sort of floor cleaner but decides against it, with the assumption that he will not appreciate her rummaging through his cabinets. Instead, she runs the towel under the sink water before squeezing it out and returning to the spill and mopping it up.

"I feel like a servant," she mutters to herself, "and I've hardly been asked to do anything." She laughs to herself and finishes off the cleaning.

While rinsing out the tea from the white towel she finds herself growing increasingly curious about the giant house. She knows very well that it is not in her best interest to go snooping. But she is a stripper. Doing things that aren't in her best interest is how she makes a living, and after a short internal debate, she is walking down the hall opposite the one Dr. Gold had gone down.

Doors line the walls, and picking just one to enter is going to be difficult. She wonders what could be behind each one. After all, she has never seen a house with so many rooms and has no idea what one would do with all of them.

She chooses first to open the second door on the right side, and when she turns on the light, she sees a boring office with a paper-scattered desk in the center.

Belle may not be an excellent decision maker, but she has enough morals to know that she should not go looking through his desk. That knowledge is the only thing that forces her to flick off the light and let the door close as quietly as possible.

The rest of the doors are boring and brown, leaving much to be desired. She opens none of them until she reaches the end of the hallway, where there are two large french doors. Belle attempts to look through them, but they somehow contort what is behind them into something unrecognizable, especially in the dark so she pushes the left one open and steps inside.

The moment she flicks the light-switch on, she is amazed. She gasps loudly and then covers her mouth, praying that he did not hear her.

The room is a library. An enormous library with books lining every wall and reaching all the way to the incredibly high, domed ceiling. She has never seen so many books in all her life. It is beyond her wildest dreams, and certainly something to take her mind off things like Greg and being a stripper.

She circles the room, analyzing the book titles. Aside from the classics, she has not heard of most of them, and as much as she would like to spend the rest of her night here, she would rather just find something to read and return to the couch. However, that is proving to be impossible with all the titles she was so interested in.

After circling the whole room once, and not reading even an eighth of the book titles, she decides to look at what he is reading. There is a chair and table in the center of the room, and resting on the table is a book, upside down, marking the page. She picks it up, holding the page with her thumb, and looks at the title.

It is a fairytale book. Realizing this makes her almost laugh. She cannot imagine him being here, reading through children's stories on his own time. And yet the book intrigues her. She opens it back up to his page and notices quickly that it is a story about Little Red Riding Hood, but she does not recall the scene. Interested, she folds over the corner of his page and opens it to the beginning. The first thing she notices is that it says 'Storybrooke Elementary' on the inside cover. Odd. Why would a middle-aged doctor be in possession of a book from the local elementary school? Although strange as it may be, she deems it unimportant for the time being and looks at the first page of writing.

The story is Snow White, and Belle recongnises the scene as the awakening of the sleeping princess, however when the iconic part ends, it goes to her wedding to Prince Charming.

She starts to understand why he would be intrigued by this.

She walks toward the door with the book open and bids what she hopes is not a final goodbye to the library.

She comes back to the couch and is relieved to see no one there. She takes the blanket from the end of it and makes herself as comfortable as possible, snuggling up underneath the blanket and losing herself in a fairy tale land.

_ The curse was important to the queen, and she would not allow sacrifice to get in the way of her enacting it. Her father's words did mean something to her, but she had ventured to far down the dark path of revenge by now. When the Evil Queen wrapped her arms around her father, she shed a final tear for him before plunging the dagger she held deep into his-_

The vibrating of her cellphone snaps Belle out of the book. She had been captivated by it. It is only her luck that someone interrupt her now. She takes her phone from her pocket and sees Greg's name lighting up the screen. She sighs. It's nearly one in the morning. What could he possibly want from her?

"Hello?" She says, doing her best not to sound irritated.

"Oh, God! Oh God, Greg!" The voice on the other end is female and muffled, and her words are followed by moaning and and sounds of lust.

Belle's jaw drops, and she wants to drop the phone but she can't. Then she hears Greg's voice in the phone saying, "You really like that, don't you?" he pants between words and Belle feels as if she may vomit, "You like that a lot, don't you, princess?"

"Yes!" The girl moans, and it is loud against the speaker.

It is not until now that Belle notices the hot, angry tears spilling down her cheeks. This cannot be happening. Not now, not here. She wants to scream at them to stop but she is unable to form any words or even sob. Instead she sits there, listening to her boyfriend fuck another girl and it kills her. It does not really hurt that Greg is obviously not going to be her boyfriend anymore. It is the fact that he actually had the nerve to do this to her. Even though he is a bit of an ass, she always thought there had to be a limit. She was sure that SHE was that limit.

But clearly she isn't.

Belle finally hangs up the phone when she hears the girl scream. And through her tears she writes Greg a two word text message, hoping it is the last thing she will ever say to him:

_ We're. Done. _

She picks up the fairytale book and throws it, not even thinking about the consequences. She stands up and rips off her jacket. The buttons scatter onto the floor and she looks down at her stripper corset and stripper boobs and uncovered stripper legs. Greg wanted her to be a whore? Well she is perfectly happy with that, no matter what fucking shit comes out of it. She is just too angry to think and she sits there letting the tears spill from her eyes for what must have been hours before she hears a door creak open down the hall and footsteps come toward her.

She does not have time to react. She just sits there like a deer in headlight and watches Dr. Gold walk into the living room.

His eyes land on her barely-covered body and he looks completely confused. Who wouldn't be? She's sitting on his couch in a corset crying like the world is fucking ending.

"Are you alright?" He whispers.

She cannot even think of how to answer that. The obvious retort would be "No, I'm fucking not," but she isn't going to say that. Because it is a stupid thing to say and she already feels stupid. So instead she shakes her head and says softly, "Come here."

He does. He walks slowly over to the couch and sits on the edge, putting as much space between them as possible.

"What's wrong?" He asks her, from his tone she knows that he does not really want an answer.

So it is a good thing she is not going to give him one. She crawls toward him slowly and gets so close she is nearly in his lap. She moves her face so close to his that their noses are brushing against each other and she brushes back his hair with her hand.

"No," he whispers, but she is not going to listen to him. Not if her life depends on it.

She leans just a bit closer to him, and feels the moment when he gives in to her, letting his mouth crash against hers.

**A/N: Woot woot! That was super fun! just so we're clear, there is no magic to be had here. The storybook is just there because I'm annoying that way. Anyway, I think this is going to end up being a series because I'm sort of falling in love with it. But the final part of this is going to be up on Sunday because the ONCE premiere! Hope you guys liked :)**


	3. Chapter 3

_**"The less I give, the more I get back."**_

He knows that he has to stop this.

She is obviously not herself and she has no idea what she is doing.

However each time he makes an attempt to pull away from her or shove her off him (which granted was not as often as it should be since the way her mouth rubbed against his forcefully and passionately is pushing him toward losing control quickly) her hands fist in his hair, holding his body close to hers.

This is her. He knows that now. He had tried so hard to deny the fact that he had brought a stripper into his home. But he had seen her curled up on his couch in the skimpy little corset his fingers run over now. And not only is she a stripper, she is the very same stripper Dr. Whale had been talking about all night. Saying she was beautiful and amazing. Gold definitely is beginning to understand that. This girl-Belle, Bella, whatever the hell her name is-is a little bit amazing, and he finds himself entranced by her and losing himself completely in her embrace, and each time he attempts to leave the fairytale world and return to reality, she pulls him back, her lips begging him to stay. Denying her that is becoming impossible.

Her teeth pull at his lower lip and he does his best to keep quiet but a moan escapes his lips despite his best efforts. The sounds seems to make her even more determined. She climbs onto him, pinning him into the couch cushions and letting her bare thighs splay across him.

She dips her tongue into his mouth and runs it across his bottom lip over and over until he sighs breathily. She wants to control him. She takes her hands from his hair, her fingernails barely grazing his neck as she finds his tie. It makes him shiver, these things she is doing to him. She lets his mouth go and he can feel her heavy breath on his face while she struggles to untie his tie.

A part of him wants to help her, but he knows that if he does, she will go through with all of this. Instead he lies there, allowing her to tug at the fabric until she loosens it and rips it from his neck. She says nothing as she does so, she only trails one hand over his covered chest and grabs his hands with the other. She holds both his wrists in one of her hands and pulls them over his head. She then brings the hand that had been stroking his shirt and holding his tie up to where she holds his wrist.

He grabs her hand when he feels fabric and her fingers touch his hand.

"No." He tells her sternly, pulling her arm back down.

Her face is angry and she does not look like she plans on listening to him. "Why not?" She says flatly, and it is hardly a question.

"I cannot do this to you. I will not allow you to let your emotions dictate your decisions."

Her face looks like that of a teenager who was told by her father that she was not allowed to attend the latest social gathering. But she lets it fade away and only looks at him, and asks more calmly, "You don't want this?"

Dr. Gold takes it all in. Her creamy thighs staring up at him, her so easily uncoverable body, the swells of her breasts peeking out from a bit of black lace lining the top of the corset. To say,he does not want any of that would be the biggest pile of bullshit he had ever said in his life, including when he told Lilac he loved her. But Belle is innocent and young. She perhaps thinks there is a possibility of a man not desiring her body.

"You are not yourself," he explains, "you aren't thinking. I cannot take advantage of that. It would make me much more of a monster."

She nods and swallows before unpinning him and sitting up. He sits up beside her, rubbing her shoulder in a way that he hopes is comforting.

"You're right," she tells him, "I-I should wait until I have my thoughts straight."

He nods enthusiastically. "Yes."

She chews her lips for a moment and he absorbs the silence. Crisis averted. She was very close to tying him up and having her way with him, despite everything. What is worse is that he had been ready to let her had he not realized at,the last second what was happening.

Unfortunately, he is unable to save himself a second time. Belle looks deep into his eyes, her blue eyes completely piercing. Her fingers graze the edge of his dress shirt and though he knows that he should shove them away, he convinces himself it is harmless.

That is, until she rips the shirt straight down the middle, scattering buttons all over the floor, joining the ones from her coat. She laughs wickedly (though without much emotion) and pulls him toward her with the two sides of his ripped shirt, kissing him softly, her tongue just barely dipping into his mouth before leaving it again. He is up for air just long enough to say, "Belle. W-what are you doing?"

She moves her mouth to his earlobe and tugs on it gently once. "I got my thoughts straight," she whispers into his ear.

He gasps and she pulls his mouth back to hers, begging for him to trust her and though he knows he should not, he also knows that he is already too fargone to turn around now. She has captured him, and he knows that she is not willing to let him go until she is satisfied.

She runs her fingers over the front of his trousers, stroking him, and he grows harder and harder, wanting her more and more in spite of himself and his supposed morals. He kisses her back, losing himself truly now, letting his tongue toy with hers and tilting her head up more so as to make it easier for her to touch him.

Feeling him give into her, she smiles against his mouth and begins unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers. She pushes them down as far as she can without releasing his lips before going to work on his boxers.

He is beyond himself at this point, unable to even think about anything but her hands on him, one stroking his chest while the fingernails of her other hand graze his cock, though she may not be entirely aware of it. He cannot make proper decisions or understand the repercussions of his actions...

That is his excuse for letting his hands unlace her barley-there corset. He pulls away from her lips, still tasting whatever chapstick she was wearing, and pulls on the knot tied inbetween her nearly-exposed breasts, and when it gives way, he pulls the entire string from it's place and the corset falls in half, revealing her to him entirely.

She appears to be shell-shocked by the fact that he has now a hundred percent reciprocating her actions, which is odd. But she did not take him this far just to have it stop now. He takes hold of her waist and flips her over on the couch before kissing up her stomach and through the valley between her breasts. She moans softly and he moves up to her ear whispering, "You aren't the only one who gets to be in charge, dearie."

She nods and swallows and he returns to her breasts, taking her nipple into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth and making forcing little moans from between her lips. Her hands fist tightly in his hair though at this point he can hardly feel how hard she is pulling at it. He is overwhelmed by her and wanting nothing more than her body intertwined with his.

He realizes when his fingers begin to explore her netheregions that she is still wearing a pair of tiny black underwear. The damp cloth comes a an enormous disappointment and he tugs on her nipple once more before letting it go and rolling her panties down her thighs. She is unbelievably wet, more so than he ever would have expected, and he can feel the wetness of her juices on her legs when his hands go back up to her begging sex.

This could possibly be the most incredible situation he has ever found himself in. He had never had this sort of feeling with Lilac, despite how beautiful she was. And though he tells himself this girl only knows what she is doing because she is a fucking stripper, he knows that it is more than that.

He rubs at her clit with his thumb and she throws her head back, moaning loudly and using her hand to force his fingers inside her. He is struck by her aggressiveness but does not fight her. He can hear how wet she is when his fingers slide inside her and he shivers with delight. She is perfect. Perfect all for him. His fingers pulse inside of her and she pants, utterly desperate. He would never have expected anything like this to happen in his home, ever. Not even between him and his wife. They had Bae, after all. Fucking on the couch was not ever really an option. This is the first time since his family left him that he is glad to have this giant house all to himself. Because this is worth it. Belle is worth it, no matter how little he knows her or how whorish she may or may not be. The wrongness feels right with her, and he wants something to feel right more than anything.

She rocks on his hand and he crooks his fingers inside her, making her scream. He does not want her to come, though. Not yet. Gold withdrawls his hand from her quickly and smiles at her intense moan.

"You..." She says, "You have to..."

She does not finish her sentence, she only pants and sighs though he is not touching her. He sucks her juices off his fingers and sighs from the pleasure the taste of her brings him.

"You are so beautiful," he says to her, "It's no wonder..."

She leans up, her back arching when he places his hands there, getting her closer to him. her nose grazes his, and although he knows she is going to kiss him again, she is less urgent about it. She kisses him gently at first. His lips are slippery from her juices and she slides hers across them. The kiss is gentle, yet almost more arousing than when she had been attacking him with passion.

She falls onto him, his head crashing into the arm of the couch. Their lips continue to mingle with each other, though his hardness is growing unbearable and he wants to be inside her more than anything. His cock is pressed right up against her hot, wet opening and it is killing him. He can tell it is killing her as well when her kisses grow deeper and she begins making sounds into his mouth. He holds her hips and lifts her up a bit before guiding himself into her.

She clenches around him instantly, and it is almost enough to make him come right now. However, he refuses to give this up so quickly. His hips rock against hers and she keeps this movement steady for as long as she can manage. He suspects that she too does not want to let this go. It means too much to both of them.

For nothing else is important to him now. Life itself seems fairly irrelevant while he holds her in his arms. She had chosen this, and though he wants to wish she had not, he could not give this up if his life depended on it. Belle had given him what no one else ever could. She had freed him in a few short hours. She had been the thing that made him forget.

It is when she runs her tongue over the inside of bottom lip that he comes inside her. The sensation had overcome him quickly, and he could feel it slipping away with each passing second. But when he hears himself scream her name and pleasure takes over him, it matters little that he was unable to make it last any longer. When he spills his seed into her she comes as well, finding her release and shrieking into the air.

The world around him spins. The intensity fades and her head falls onto him gently, her curls tickling the skin on his chest.

Contentment such as this had never found him until now.

_**"Your hands can heal. Your hands can bruise." **_

Belle is awoken by a soreness between her legs. Her eyes flutter open and she sees a dimly lit room with a book thrown on the ground with buttons surrounding it.

It takes her a moment to remember the events of the previous night, but when she feels the body beneath her there is no denying it. Dr. Gold is asleep still, which is comforting in an odd way. She can have these few moments to scold herself.

This was a mistake. No matter how amazing it had felt at the time, she should have known better. He had tried so hard to stop her, though she knew from his first attempt that was not ever going to happen. She had been overwrought with anger and passion. He had been a cure, and an amazingly effective one at that.

She untangles herself from his arms, doing her best not to wake him. He stirs but does not come to consciousness. She exhales softly and picks up her ruined coat. Her corset is still half on her though she cannot find the string that held it together. She says a silent thank you to the universe that she bought a jacket with a tie so that even without buttons it will stay together. She picks up her stilettos from the ground by the couch and runs a hand through her hair, looking around the house. She knows that she is going to have to return to reality now. Gold had been her escape, but running only works for so long.

Before she leaves, she spots the book of fairytales lying facedown on the floor, open to a random page. She laughs once softly and sets her heels onto the floor, tiptoeing over to the book and picking it up. The pages it is opened to are folded over and nearly ruined but she can still see that the story is of Beauty and the Beast and that there is a picture of a chipped teacup to the side of it. She laughs again, louder this time. It is funny. Funny that her name is staring up at her next to a piece of chipped dishware that looked shockingly similar to the one she had ruined the previous night.

She does not have the time to dwell on it though, and she unfolds the pages and closes the book, placing it on the kitchen table in the corner. She starts to walk out, but as her fingers reach for the doorknob she hears Gold's voice behind her.

"Belle?"

She sighs and looks down before turning around and meeting his eyes. She tries to look apologetic, but also make it clear that she must leave.

"You're going?" He asks. She nods once and swallows.

"You...you don't have to," he offers, "not if you do not need to."

Her brow furrows and she feels sad. It takes her a moment to realize it is because she does not wish to leave him. She wants to stay here, if just for a few final hours. Returning to reality so soon seems too cruel a fate.

She nods again. "I-You don't mind my staying...just for a bit?"

"Of course not."

She is trying to hard not to stare at him, lying naked on the couch just barely covered by that blanket. She nods.

"Mmkay. I-If that's alright."

"It is."

They stand awkwardly across the room from each other and Belle sets her heels down on the floor hard and clears her throat. She is not helping the tension in the room much, it seems.

"You can take a shower if you'd like," Gold offers.

"Yeah!" Belle says, a bit too loudly and a bit too quickly. She then smiles and looks down, embarrassed, "I mean-I-"

He looks at her as if she is the most peculiar creature he has ever laid eyes on, probably from her insane behavior. "Down the hall to the right. There are towels in the cabinet."

Belle nods and smiles before turning and following his directions. She is being so childish. She had made the decision to sleep with this man and here she was feeling awkward about it. If she was mature enough to make the decision then she should be mature enough to handle the consequences. And it is not like she regrets what she did. Not much, anyway. As far as one-night-stands go, it honestly is not that bad.

She turns into the crazy-fancy bathroom and locks the door behind her. She exhales and runs a hand through her tangled curls. It is a bit of a relief to be in a room by herself with no fear of anyone walking in and disturbing her. Even though Belle does not have a massive amount of friends, she is never truly alone. She always finds that there is someone around, holding her back and keeping her inside her shell, so despite the fact that Dr. Gold is but a hallway away from her, this privacy is enough. It is enough to be able to hum under her breath and stand naked someplace off a stage or in Ruby or Emma's shower when she can hear voices outside constantly. Yes. This is enough.

She stands under the hot water for a while, not really thinking much about actually washing herself. She more just reminisces. She finds that she is not upset. Sure, Greg is an idiot, but at least now she knows that and it is not holding her back. And there is something about Gold...something that interests her. He is odd and different, yet she cannot help but be drawn to him. It does not make sense, but something tells her that it is not one sided.

She wishes she could revisit the library and that thought reminds her of his book of fairytales. Shit. She prays he either will not find it or will not know it was her who destroyed it in her fit of passionate rage. Right. Because there are so many other people around to blame. "No, Doctor! The candlestick did it, really!" Belle knows how incredibly fucked she is. But he is a grown man. How much can a book really mean to him?

She sighs and looks around for some kind of shampoo. She does not really have a desire to smell like a man for a potentially long time but it is better than trying to deal with her matted, messy curls. Luckily, she does not have to decide between the two because there is a bottle of girl shampoo hidden away in the corner of the shower. Huh. Why would he have female shampoo? She would have seen if he had a daughter (they had been incredibly loud last night, after all) and having slept with the man she assumes it is not some kind of strange fetish. He had said he is not married...anymore. Perhaps the divorce was recent? So much so that the woman's shampoo is still here. The thought actually disgusts Belle a bit and she nearly goes back to the man soap before telling herself she is being ridiculous. Even if he is very recently separated from his wife, there is no reason she should care. She had seduced him, after all. Even if he had been married yesterday, she would have no right to criticize him.

She finishes showering and wraps his towel around her body then wipes the steam off the mirror, revealing her reflection. Her makeup is running everywhere and she does her best to wipe it off without soiling the towel. It is funny. She looks so different without her face all covered with products. Not any better, in her opinion, but different. Natural. It was sort of the reason Greg or her dad never guessed what she did for a living. She had told Greg, hoping he would understand, and although he had said he did, Belle knows now that he was lying. He was never okay with her no matter what bullshit he fed her. He judged her just as much as the men who watched her dance around naked. He just lied and said that he did not.

Belle shakes her crazy thoughts and shakes her hair out. It looks more wavy than curly now. Beachy, almost. Dr. Gold would probably find it sexy.

She laughs at her own stupid thoughts. Obviously, he does not find her at all sexy. She is just a number to him and she knows it. Random stripper whore does not exactly earn a special place in anyone's heart.

She sighs heavily and turns the doorknob, popping the lock.

It is, of course, at that moment that she hears the doorbell ring.

_**"I don't have a choice, but I still choose you."**_

The sound of the doorbell shakes him from his thoughts.

He had been sitting on the edge of the bed, half dressed, thinking for far too long. Even though he had convinced himself that after he left the couch and got dressed he would move on with his day, his mind refused to let him be. What he feels still does not make sense. He had done something terrible and yet cannot bring himself to wish it had not transpired. This is not only because of his natural human instincts. It traces back to Belle and how she makes him feel. Needed. Like he is more than even he believes.

So it is most definitely a relief that the doorbell shakes him from his insanity.

He snatched a shirt from the ground and threw it on as best he could, trying to make himself a bit presentable, though the cause is fairly hopeless.

If he had been thinking, he never would have answered it. There was a beautiful girl showering just down the hall and explaining that to anyone will be impossible without then realizing at least part of the truth. However, Dr. Gold is willing to do anything to take his mind off of Belle, and that includes opening the door

He did not know who he was expecting. Dr Whale, maybe, here to scold him, or perhaps Bae or the fucking nun Lilac had enlisted to 'watch him'. What he did not expect to see was his now ex-wife standing in the doorway looking more beautiful, ridiculous, and pitiful than he had ever seen her.

"Oh thank God," Lilac says breathily, lunging at him. It is lucky that he manages to duck from her reach.

He lifts his head slowly and ignores the pissed expression on the woman's face. "Lilac...um, Miss Milah. What can I do for you?"

It bothers him that he is so immature about this. So unwilling to engage in normal conversation with her as he used to. Going so far as to call her by her maiden name just to make it clear he does not want anything to do with her anymore.

"The divorce isn't even final yet," Lilac snaps, "You don't need to call me that."

Gold looks down and nods. How quickly her tone had changed. "Of course. My apologies. What do you want, Lilac?"

"I-" she starts, her pretty blue eyes slit and angry, "Bae left one of his books here, have you seen it?"

Gold swears that he hears a gasp come from down the hall and prays that Lilac did not hear the same thing. He can probably get this woman out of here soon, he just has to trust Belle to stay put. And not make noise.

"I'm afraid not, dearie. Bae's books have never been my responsibility."

Lilac taps her flashy stiletto (flashier than Belle's are, anyway) loudly and frowns. "It's not even his. That stupid boy, Henry Mills-Swan...the one with the two gay mothers," Lilac makes a face and Gold gathers his composure, doing his absolute best not to punch her, "borrowed the damned thing from the library at the school and lent it to Baelfire. He has to turn it in today so you're going to have to fucking work with me."

Gold sighs and looks around. "I'm empty handed, Lilac. You're just going to have to pay the fine."

She scoffs but the her eyes zero-in on the kitchen table and she stomps across the room.

Gold seizes the opportunity to kick Belle's heels under the tablecloth next to him. However doing so quietly is proving to be incredibly difficult. And the ends in them continue to catch on the edge of the cloth.

"Fuck, Belle," Gold mutters, perhaps louder than he had assumed because Lilac whips around and snarls,

"Fuck who?"

Gold wishes he could go back 5 seconds, but standing here with his foot in his mouth is perhaps as good as it gets right now. "No-one!" He says, but he sounds panicky, "Nothing."

She picks up the book from the table (How had it gotten there?) And smiles sweetly, making her way back to the doorway where Gold still stands.

"It's fine," she says, "I got the book. No harm done. For now."

He tries to nod but she changes her tune quicker than he can even move his head up and down, shoving the book into his arms and falling onto her knees. She is not dying. She is searching under the table and when she finds Belle's heels she holds them up and smiles in the most unhappy way anyone could imagine.

"So," she drawls, "I guess it's true. You never did care about me."

She says it so matter-of-factly. It angers him. "Lilac, you know I-"

"Shut up! Just shut up now you son of a-"

At this point, Gold genuinely wishes to be thrown off a bridge. It is not just that he is genuinely pissed off, it is also that this is awkward. Incredibly so, and he would probably do anything to get out of this.

Almost anything. However not his one-night-stand choosing that very moment to waltz into the room.

"Are you ready for round two yet? We had better make it faster than last time," Gold lets his jaw drop when Belle wanders into his kitchen in nothing but her corset, her back to Lilac, "because I have to get to work and I'm sure your wife will be looking for you soon. We can't have her-oh."

It is completely clear to Gold that Belle was aware of Lilac's presence all through her little show, but she plays innocent, gasping and sputtering fake apologies at Lilac.

Gold is fairly sure that both he and Lilac are wearing the very same expression. But they definitely do not have the same response. At least, Gold does not think so. Lilac does not seem like the type to want to race over and unlace that damned corset again, which had been Gold's first thought.

The girl displayed in front of him is hardly recognizable as the one he had slept with the previous night. Her hair is in waves, probably from the water on her curls, and her face is clear of any makeup. And yet still, she looks beautiful. Perhaps even more so, and it fascinates him that he had ever thought her anything less than that.

Lilac sputters beside him. "You-you-"

Belle is on the verge if laughing, Gold can tell, but she stays open-mouthed and looking as sorry as possible.

"I'm so sorry!" She says, "I had no idea you-you even existed, I-"

Belle has a nice 'grasping at straws' thing going on here, and Lilac is outright falling for it. She turns to Gold.

"I should slap you," she says coldly, "but a fucking whore like THIS," she points at Belle and Gold sees the pain flicker across her pretty face, "just isn't worth it."

Belle puts on a 'yeah, I'm a stripper, fuck you' facade, but Gold can see through it. He knows her feelings were hurt by Lilac, and as soon as she storms out he exhales and looks over at Belle.

"I'm so sorry, love," he tells her.

Belle rolls her eyes and stares off for a moment before saying, "How could you MARRY that!?" Quite loudly.

Her eyes are brimming with tears and Gold knows he needs to calm her down. "Belle, really, I-"

"She's a BITCH!" Belle informs him.

"A bit if an understatement, but, yes. She is. And I am sorry she hurt your feelings, dear. You did not have to show yourself."

Belle scoffs. "Yes, I did. She was never going to leave and I could not stand her talking to you like that. I did you a favor."

"Well, I suppose you owed me that. But I doubt it was worth her wrath."

Belle shrugs. "Well. You're welcome."

She walks to the door and picks up her heels from the ground, then pulling her jacket over her corset and tying it up so as not to reveal her occupation to passersby. "I'll, uh, just go now." She says kindly, "Goodbye, doctor."

He blinks slowly, "Rum," he tells her, "You can call me Rum"

She bites her lip and smiles again. "Alright. Goodbye, Rum."

"Goodbye, Belle."

She opens the door wide and they both hear a crack of thunder. Rain begins to pour from the skies and Belle shakes her head. "Fuck," she mutters.

He wants her to turn around and ask to stay longer. He wants her to at least ask for an umbrella. But she does not. She only wanders out into the pouring rain, out of his life now forever. She had been the perfect fantasy. The brief flicker of light amidst his ocean of darkness. Lasting only one night before disappearing as if she had never been there to begin with.

But her memory could never fade for him. He could still feel a tingle from the places she had kissed him, still taste her on his lips. She had been so special, so different. Letting go of something like that is not possible. Not for him. She had left her fingerprints on his body, all over his house, and forever stained on his life.

How well he knows her is not important. For she knows him better than anyone ever has. She had rescued him, and it is painful to say goodbye to your heroes. He had brought her into his life because he needed her. It had never been a gesture of kindness. Seeing someone as broken as himself had been perfect, and though he knows she will never feel anything for him, he would never be able to stop clinging to the shards of light she left behind.

She had been innocent. She had assumed a cold, old man without emotions could forget a night of her unleashing her angry passion on him. She had probably forgotten already. Moved on and forgiven those who angered her so. If only. If only he could do the same. If he could forgive Lilac perhaps his life would be different. Perhaps he never would have met Belle. Perhaps all of this could be changed had he been more like her. Different.

Past. It is in the past now. If he wanted to be like Lilac then he could live in the past forever, but he does not wish to be like her. He does not wish to pursue a life purely lived to hurt everyone, contrary to common belief.

And yet he cannot think what to do with life after this. One cannot go from perfect moments back to a life if misery without changing. He cannot pretend that nothing has changed because Belle has changed him. Be it for better or for worse.

And yet in his mind, her life had not been altered in any way. She has everything ahead of her and no reason to dwell on silly things like him.

He could never have imagined that, in truth, only about a block away from him, she stands crying in the rain.

**A/N: Yes. Okay. That was the end. And I know it's like a week late, blame the ONCE premiere. I just hope it was worth it for you guys! There is also going to be a sequel to this, so put the golf clubs away! Anyway, have a magical weekend! Reviews make me happy! Love you dearies xoxo**


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